Never Dead (Welcome To Dead House Book 1)

by M. L. Bullock

  “Well, I guess we're done here then,” I said, feeling a little stung from his heated words. Shouldn’t one of us break out the curse words? This was the politest argument I’d ever been in.

  “I guess so. Have a nice evening."

  "Thanks, I will." He walked out of the attic and headed down the stairs without turning back, then left the house without a word. To say it was anticlimactic was an understatement. Whatever connection we had been making was sure as hell over.

  At least I knew the ghost's name. I did find out that much. Now I had to go in search of Joey. Maybe he'd have some information for me, and I could thank him for opening the door. I closed the attic door behind me and tried the knob. It wasn’t locked now, which was weird. I paused outside Chloe’s door but couldn’t hear anything. She probably had her headphones on.

  I went back to my bedroom, but Joey was nowhere to be found. I called his name a few times, hoping he’d show up, but he didn't. With growing frustration at both the men in my life, I went to my office and decided to open the computer and send off a few emails. I thought about emailing Quinton. I wasn’t sure about opening the door to that two-timing jerk again, but I didn’t have much choice. I didn’t have anyone else to turn to. Tina Louise was gone along with all her connections. I mean, I had a few but not like my late bestie. Quinton might not even answer me, but I decided to give it a shot.

  A few minutes later, I was adding attachments and sending an email to my ex-boyfriend. I also sent him my address for research purposes only, which I indicated politely in the body of the text, but I decided to leave off my cell phone number. With shaky fingers, I clicked send.

  It was done, for better or for worse. Go to bed, Tamara. You’re delirious.

  I closed down the computer and went to bed.

  15

  Annie Hensley

  1987

  When I woke up, the world was a different place. I expected to see hospital machines, maybe bright lights above me, and fluorescent lights, the kind I worked under every day. I belonged in a hospital because I’d been hurt. I could feel the pain in my head and my face and all over.

  “Hello?” I whispered, but nobody was in these woods. I couldn’t even say how I’d gotten there.

  Confusion. Sadness. Anger.

  I felt more than I thought, more than I could reason. I had many feelings, but reasoning proved difficult. I’d always been a reasonable person.

  “Is there anyone here?” I sobbed as I began to travel through the dark woods. I breezed past bushes and trees. I moved quickly, so quickly it startled me. I wanted to get out. I had to get out of here.

  He’d been after me—the man in white. What was his name?

  Flashes of his face, wolfish and dark, appeared before me, but I swatted the memory away. I did not want to remember. I did not want to know.

  I walked through the endless woods. They were so dark and so thick I could see nothing, not even the hand in front of my face. I had to keep moving, or he would find me. He would find me and hurt me again.

  No! No more, please! No more!

  The pain returned, and my hand rubbed my head. There had been blood everywhere.

  Marjorie! I had to find Marjorie. My poor friend was lost and far from home. She’d gone to the house, the big house where the ghosts lived. That was what Marjorie used to say. Ghosts. At the house. What was the place called? Why was my memory so terrible?

  I moaned as I glided through the woods. I was gliding, not walking. No branches slapped me, and no vines cut me.

  My name is Annie Hensley. That is my name. Annie. I am Annie. I need to find Marjorie.

  It was so dark. I moaned again.

  Then I saw a light, a bright light. It shone through the woods like a warm pink spotlight. It was lovely.

  I began to travel toward it.

  If I could get to the light, I would find Marjorie. I would find what I needed. I could escape these dark woods and the man in white. Paul, that was his name.

  His name was Paul.

  I moved even more quickly toward the light.

  No. I can’t leave her. Marjorie, I have to make sure she’s safe. I stepped away from the light even though I wanted to run toward it. I couldn’t leave her behind. Not with Paul. He would hurt her.

  As if the light heard my argument, as if it knew my thoughts, it faded away.

  I was surrounded by darkness again.

  16

  Chloe

  I was back in my own room and determined to hold my ground. As fierce as I pretended to be, the image of the hooded reaper standing at the end of the hallway haunted me. There was no denying it had a profound effect on me. I even saw the thing in my dreams, but I did my best to put it out of my mind. This was my house. For real. The Ridaught Plantation belonged to my mother and her mother before her. This house was the only thing left of my mom, and I wasn't going to abandon it. I would not go quietly because of an apparition.

  I wasn't sure, but Joey could have been to blame for the entity’s appearance. I didn’t think it was possible it was actually Joey, I mean, he ran out ahead of me and had been equally terrified by it. Tamara wanted to help him, but I kind of felt as if she were out of her element. She'd only been a paranormal hobbyist, not a professional paranormal investigator. She might have seen every Ghost Hunters episode known to man, but that didn't make a person an expert on the subject. I preferred Ghost Adventures, but that didn't mean I was an expert either.

  I texted Trey one more time, but he didn't answer. I didn't know what the deputy said to him, but it had put the fear of God in him. I didn't know Trey that well, but I liked the guy. I'd try to text him again later. I put the crystals Lynn had given me on the dresser and some on the nightstand. They were supposed to repel negative energy. Black tourmaline was my absolute favorite. We’d had an unsteady friendship until we started talking about crystals. I wasn’t even sure how the conversation came up except I was hanging out by Trey’s locker and so was she. It didn’t take me long to figure out they were cousins and best friends. I liked her too. I would proceed carefully with the friendship, though. I’d been burned by new “friends” before.

  I wanted to get back into the attic to take a look around. It had to be Mom who opened the door, so I could explore her things. I had my big flashlight, and for some reason, I felt compelled to bring some of the black crystals with me. I had gotten into crystals last year, and I believed in their ability to influence the environment. I was hoping to avoid negative entities, so hematite seemed the right tool for the job. After checking my phone one last time and seeing I had no messages, I decided to get on with it. The only bad thing about checking out the attic was I had to go past the spot where the hooded figure hung out. Every time I thought about it, the memory gave me the chills. It couldn't be anything other than the Grim Reaper. Why would he be at the Ridaught Plantation? I wasn’t even sure what Grim Reapers do.

  Now that the door to the attic had been opened, I was dying to explore the place, and without Tamara and Kevin squabbling like an old married couple. I had to go. A strange compulsion drew me back to examine the contents. I wanted to look in every box and every nook and cranny. With my big flashlight in one hand and my crystals in the other, I walked into the attic and closed the door behind me. The click of the latch made me feel somewhat secure. It was always a good feeling to know no one could sneak up behind you. No living person, anyway.

  Although there were tons of things to look at, and some obviously creepy and interesting items. I was drawn to the steamer trunks on the left side of the attic. I knew exactly who they belonged to. Those had to be my mother’s old traveling trunks. I had wondered where they’d gone. Did Tamara know they were here? Was she trying to keep them from me?

  Those trunks were like treasure boxes. Mom kept her expensive performance gowns in them, the ones I was never allowed to touch. Sometimes she unlocked them and shared her treasures with me. Such exquisite things.

  As I drew closer, I saw a small cedar
box and opened it. It was a neat box full of costume jewelry and the pieces were really old, but not my mother’s stuff. I closed the jewelry box and set it aside. It wasn’t what I was looking for. Someone must have stuffed it here at some point.

  I recognized a trunk that was familiar. Luckily the lock was missing. I knelt in front of it as I rubbed my hands over the dirty lid. Yes, this was Mom’s. I would recognize those old stickers anywhere. Funny Tamara didn’t even notice them. Mom! I miss you so much!

  Tears filled my eyes when I opened the lid. It was filled with my mother’s things—two of her beautiful gowns, along with hats and feather boas and all of the beaded undergarments. They would be my treasures now.

  In her day, Mom had been a star in her own right. Not a stripper as some would say, but a burlesque dancer. She always described herself as an artist. It was funny how as I got older, I didn't regret or resent her profession. What I did resent was that she never made time for me. I hated that Mom put those beautiful things and all of those experiences ahead of me. I loved her completely, yet I had not been enough. The horrible irony was, she died on the way to see me. Maybe if she’d stayed away, she’d still be alive. But then someone else’s mom would have been killed by that drunk driver.

  Someone else…

  I lifted the dark green gown from the trunk and held it close, praying I would catch a whiff of her perfume. I breathed in deeply, but I could not smell her.

  I miss you, Mom.

  What would she think about me living here? I was pretty sure she had mentioned it when I was young, but I’d never been here before, and my grandmother never wanted to talk about the “Ridaught Place,” as she referred to it. She had a healthy respect for supernatural things, and I think that was where I inherited her practical approach to the paranormal. All bets were off now. The family home was a strange place, but it was mine.

  Mom, I wish you were here, I thought. I know it’s possible for you to come back because you talk to Joey. I know you can come back. Why won’t you come to me?

  I focused my thoughts and waited for a response, but I heard nothing.

  With a sigh, I clutched the green gown before moving on to the rest of the items. There were postcards. I waved the flashlight beam on the faint writing, but it was difficult to see. Maybe if I had my glasses. I thought I was too young to be this blind. Not having the patience to examine them closely, I set the postcards on the floor beside me and continued to sort through the trunk. There was nothing else to see, just the other dress and accessories. I turned my attention to a trunk next to this one. It wasn’t my mom’s, or at least I didn’t recognize it, but I was curious.

  Moving the rusty latch, I opened it and found a bunch of newspapers. There were wrapped items but nothing special, just some Christmas ornaments. Each ornament was hand-painted and elegantly crafted. I thought they were porcelain. There was a bell, a silver bell with a fading red ribbon. I would have to remember these things at Christmas. I wondered who all this belonged to. I knew what I was going to wear for Halloween—my mom’s dress.

  I'd been wracking my brain for just the right costume, and this was it. As I stood up to stretch my back, I clutched the dress to my chest. I heard a sound behind me. It sounded like the scrabbling of rodent feet across a nearby board. Then I heard it again on the other side of me. The sound was too loud to be mice or rats.

  I waved my flashlight in the direction of the sound and noticed a small burst of dust rising from the floor as if something just ran past me.

  "Joey? Is that you? Cut it out," I warned as the hair on the back of my neck rose. Then I felt a strange sensation, like I'd walked through a spider’s web. It felt as if it covered my face and ears. I sputtered and yelped as I wiped my face with my hand, but I could find nothing. I furiously ran my fingers through my hair to make sure there wasn't some big-ass spider crawling all over me. Spiders were the worst. I waved the flashlight around, looking for the source of the spiderweb and completely forgetting about the scratching sound for a few seconds until I heard it again.

  This time it was closer to the door.

  Oh, my God! What if there was some kind of weird giant spider roaming around in the attic? There were hundreds of places for it to hide. I scrambled to my feet to investigate, then stood by the door and listened to the strange sounds.

  Scramble, scramble. Scratch, scratch. It gave me chills.

  I edged away from the door and the source of the sound as quickly and quietly as possible. To make matters worse, the spiderweb was back, and all over my body now. I felt like I was in a horror movie. How many times had I screamed at the television warning whoever was on screen not to turn their backs? I couldn't take my eyes off the attic door.

  Keep walking. Count to ten. Breathe, girl.

  Whatever was making the sound stopped, and the creepy spiderweb sensation subsided. I was still clutching the dress and the stack of postcards while waving my flashlight when something caught my eye. It wasn't in the attic, but a light in the yard. The sun had gone down hours ago, and there were no electric lights in the backyard, but there were several dull yellow lights that looked like candles. Who in the world would be walking around outside with candles? I turned off the flashlight and momentarily forgot my fear of spiders. I stepped closer toward the window, hoping not to be noticed by whoever was skulking around down there.

  Something was not right. It was going on midnight, I guessed. I wondered if I should go tell Tamara. I decided against it, mostly because I didn't want to talk to her. I couldn't say why. I spent most of my time mad at her for no apparent reason other than she was here and my mother was not. That didn't make sense even to me, but it was what it was, as Trey liked to say.

  I should've brought my phone. I’d left it by the trunk. It would've been nice to have pictures of what I saw. I retrieved it quickly and hurried out of the attic, surprised to find Joey hovering in the hallway. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. His eyebrow was cocked up as if he had caught me doing something very naughty. To make his whole expression seem even more ridiculous, he was wearing a doo-rag on his head. He did love doo-rags. At least this one was from Tamara's shabby collection.

  "Joey? Why are you always spying on me?"

  "Why are you always such a snot? Nice dress, by the way."

  "It comes naturally, I guess. Maybe I inherited it. Why don’t you ask my mom the next time you see her? Now, if you don't mind…" I moved past Joey, ignoring his luminous face. He had forgotten to manifest his legs, which made him look ridiculous.

  Joey’s expression shifted, and he was as sad-looking as any puppy. "Don't go out there. You're inviting trouble by going out there, Chloe."

  "What do you know about what's out there? Did you have something to do with this?"

  He faded but didn’t vanish completely. "Do I look like I have something to do with any of that? I am in here, and they're out there. I want to keep it that way, but you keep poking the hornets’ nest. You have to stop. They can see you and hear you. You’re pulling them closer.”

  I whispered in surprise, “Me? So you know about the lights? Those lights are ghosts? What’s going on, Joey?”

  “I don’t know. I try to avoid them. Please, don't go out there. They will see you if you go outside. Your light will draw everything in the neighborhood."

  I rubbed my forehead as a headache threatened to blind me. "Have you lost your mind?"

  “Yes. I lost my mind a long time ago. You are too bright, Chloe. If you wouldn't mind, how about toning it down a little so the rest of us can get some sleep?"

  “That doesn’t sound right. Meditation is supposed to stop that kind of thing from happening. Did you leave your head in the oven too long?”

  His other eyebrow cocked up. “For most people, that’s true. I mean, I’m a Ghost Travelers and Dead Cases fanboy. I know all about this stuff, and normally that’s how it works. Do some meditation, sprinkle some water, apply some oil. That can help ‘normal’ people.” He air-quoted “
normal” to me. “But not you, Chloe. By stopping up the spigot, you attract more negativity. Like those lights. Those lights ain’t nothing good, and there’s more of them gathering around this place.”

  I didn’t know what to say. How was that possible?

  “I’m doing my best to help you, Chloe. I’m exhausted, but I am trying. You have to give me that.”

  “What about Mom? Have you seen her?” I asked as I leaned against the opposite wall.

  “No, I haven’t since the storm. But that is what I mean. The more you reach out to her, the more everything reaches back. She can’t come here. She’s banned by…I don’t know what, but she can’t be here!”

  “You’re here, though. Why can’t she be here?”

  “That’s above my pay grade, sweetie. All I know is you are attracting all kinds of bugs, so whatever you have to do, do it. I’ll do my best to push them back, but I’m flaming out and quick. Don’t go out there.” Joey vanished before I could interrogate him further. I decided against going outside in the middle of the night to confront candle-wielding strangers. Or ghosts. Or whatever was outside.

  With a death grip on the dress and postcards, I ran to my room and turned on every light I had. Joey might get some rest, but I was never going to fall asleep.

  Probably ever again.

  17

  Tamara

  I was exhausted but excited about the progress we'd made. The bottom floor of the Ridaught Plantation looked amazing, like Halloweentown meets a haunted house. It was like something out of a movie set, with plenty of scary touches but in a classy sort of way. I had no idea Chloe was so good at decorating and staging furniture and accessories. To think, I’d ignored all her advice on paint colors and the like when we moved in here. Note to self: Chloe has an eye for style.